by Lisa Scott
She opened a cupboard and started searching for coffee. It was a little weird going through a stranger’s things. But Aurora had told her Blake Behr always said for her to help herself to anything she wanted while watching the dog. Surely, he’d extend the same courtesy to Aurora’s fill-in girl. This guy must love his coffee—he had at least a dozen different kinds to choose from.
Goldie had never tried Brazilian coffee, so she ground the beans, dumped them in the gold plated filter—Seriously?—and waited for the caffeine kick she so desperately needed.
While the coffee brewed, she inspected the kitchen with its gleaming stainless steel appliances, expensive cookware, but very little food. These cupboards were practically empty, except for old crackers, sardines and olives.
She looked at Miss Sniggles. “I think we’re ordering out, kiddo.”
The coffee finished brewing and she poured herself a cup. She was the only women she knew who drank her coffee black. Fancy creams and flavorings for her brew weren’t appealing. For someone who lived a fairly nomadic life, she was quite picky in her tastes.
She warmed her hands on the mug and inhaled the scent. “Nice.” But she spit out the first sip. “Ugh. Too strong.” She dumped the pot in the sink. Searching through the coffee choices, she picked a Columbian roast.
She made up another pot while the dog curled up in the corner and snored softly. The apartment was immaculate; she’d have to be sure to clean up after herself Saturday morning. Staying with other people usually meant you put away your stuff and tidied up immediately, but maybe this week she’d cut herself some slack and do it all at the end.
The last of the coffee dribbled through the filter, and she poured herself another cup. Taking a sip, she frowned. “Yuck. Way too weak.” Maybe she wasn’t destined for coffee today.
“I’ll try one more time.” She chose a French blend and crossed her fingers that the third time would be a charm. Miss Sniggles was awake now, dancing around Goldie’s feet. “Do you have to go out?”
The dog yipped at her.
Goldie got her leash and poured herself a cup of coffee in a travel mug. She took a sip. “Perfect!” Carrying the dog was easier than following her teeny-tiny steps. They crossed the street to Sherwood Park, and Miss Sniggles immediately relieved her thimble sized bladder. Goldie let her sniff around while she inspected the park. It was a nice late-summer day, and she’d love to paint a few watercolors while she had the chance. She preferred oils, but canvases were a lot bulkier to haul around than sheets of watercolor paper. The owner of Naughty or Nice bakery had agreed to let her hold an art show there in a few weeks, and she wanted to have as many framed paintings and note cards for sale as possible.
She took Miss Sniggles back inside and carried her suitcase of supplies out to the park. A portable easel, a folding chair, and her water colors all fit inside. People were always surprised to see her unpack all that gear from her suitcase. She set up her palette and scanned the park for inspiration. On a sunny late September day, it wasn’t hard to find beautiful scenarios, but she liked to capture the unexpected. Most people might be tempted by the sight of colorful trees and use their burnt umber and sienna to recreate a panoramic view of the park. Goldie always focused on the overlooked. She spotted a forgotten Frisbee nestled under the leaves and started painting that; the perfect image of a summer just passed.
Dabbing her brush in the paint and swooping it along the paper, she wondered what was next for her after this dog-sitting gig. She really should have some sort of five-year plan. That’s what all the financial planning articles she’d read at Ariel’s had advised. Getting by day-to-day was becoming difficult. She’d been selling her artwork online and at the occasional show. It would be a dream to do this full time and to have her own little place to live—she certainly didn’t need a luxury apartment like Blake’s. A simple studio would do. But even that was a stretch right now. The term starving artist had more than a thread of truth in it.
She finished two paintings, pleased with her work, and went back to the apartment. She wandered from room to room, trying out the chairs and sofas, looking for the perfect spot to curl up and read a book. She finally found the ideal recliner in a den, and kicked up the footrest. Trying to concentrate on her book, she was distracted by an unfamiliar sense of dissatisfaction. She should be thrilled with this set up—alone for a week! No distractions, no inadvertent voyeurism. She was more solo than Han.
She set down her book. But maybe that was it. She usually wasn’t alone. She crashed with friends and rarely had a moment to herself. Perhaps being alone was lonelier than she liked. Some friends subtly suggested she find a boyfriend to shack up with. But she would not start dating a guy just in the hopes of finding a place to live. And dating while you’re bouncing from place to place isn’t the easiest thing to do.
It was time to let Miss Sniggles out again, and Goldie walked a few blocks to grab a slice of pizza and a salad. She made herself a setting at the huge dining room table to enjoy her feast, but it only made her feel lonely again.
When it was time for bed, she inspected the three bedrooms. She assumed the biggest one with the silky, chocolate-brown duvet was the master suite. She’d feel a little odd sleeping in his room, so she checked out what she assumed were the guest bedrooms. Deciding on a cream-colored room with an antique sleigh bed and quilt, she hauled in her suitcase. She cleaned up, slipped into her nightgown, and crawled under the covers. Miss Sniggles must have been feeling lonely too, because she left her own luxurious room and wandered into Goldie’s. The dog stood at the side of the bed and whined.
Goldie patted the edge of the bed, encouraging her to jump up. Then she realized an itty-bitty pooch wouldn’t be able to make a leap like that, so she picked her up, and the dog snuggled next to her on the pillow.
Goldie sunk into the mattress. It was nice at first, but then she felt uncomfortable, constantly changing positions, punching her pillow and causing Miss Sniggles to growl softly at her. Sighing, she got up, scooped the dog into her arms and went to the next room down the hall. She peeled back the covers, set the dog next to her and tried to find her “spot.” After a few tosses and turns, she stared at the ceiling. Why couldn’t she get comfortable in this home? Was she feeling guilty about crashing here? Was she uncomfortable staying in such luxurious digs? Whatever the reason, the bed was so hard she couldn’t stand it another minute.
Scooping up a disgruntled Miss Sniggles one more time, she stood in the doorway of the master bedroom. Certainly, the man of the house had a comfortable bed. And she was desperate for sleep. She’d wash the sheets before she left. Setting the dog down again, she crawled under the covers, set her head on the pillow and sighed. “This is perfect.” And she fell right asleep.
***
Blake couldn’t decide if he was more annoyed or relieved that the cruise with his parents had been cancelled. The cruise line had offered to book them onto another cruise leaving the next day, but once his mother had heard the words “Norovirus” and “outbreak” her cruising days were over. Traveling with them was never easy, but what a waste the last two days had been. His mother was disappointed, his father was angry, and now Blake had to find them a new twenty-fifth wedding anniversary present. Someone owed him big time in the karma department.
While his parents walked down the street to grab a bite to eat from the all night deli, he brought their luggage upstairs, dropping it in his front hall. Something in the kitchen immediately caught his attention. Dirty dishes in the sink? Did Aurora make herself something to eat while she was here?
He walked through the apartment. Someone had left a reading light on in his den. The doors to the guest bedrooms were open. And why wasn’t that darn dog running out of her room to greet him? Miss Sniggles was annoying, but she was always happy to see him, perhaps the only creature that felt that way these days.
He flipped on the hall light and paused outside his room. What the hell? Someone was sleeping in his bed, and he didn’t r
ecognize the tangle of blond curls as Aurora’s. He walked into his room, planted his fists and his hips and cleared his throat. “Hope my bed is comfortable.”
The girl sucked in a breath and sat up, her eyes wide with panic. “Blake? What are you doing home so early?” She pressed her hand against her chest, covering up her low cut nightgown.
He raised an eyebrow. “How do you know me, but I don’t know you?”
She blinked and gulped. “I’m Goldie Lockston, Aurora’s friend. She had to go out of town on an emergency. She asked if I could take care of the dog.”
“She didn’t have permission to stay here.”
Her mouth opened and closed, and if he weren’t annoyed with her he would have thought she was sexy, in a disheveled way. Miss Sniggles looked at him and curled up next to the girl, the furry little traitor.
Goldie’s shoulders slumped. “I’m sorry. I kind of had nowhere to stay, so I crashed here while I was watching the dog. It’s almost like an extra service, really. Round the clock dog sitting.” She smiled at him hopefully.
“It’s more like a bonus, free room and board.”
Out came a scowl. “I’ll get my stuff together.”
Surprisingly, he didn’t want to see her go. In fact, she might be able to help him out. He held up a hand. “Hang on a minute. I won’t fire Aurora and I won’t call police on you if you do one thing for me.”
She narrowed her eyes. “What?”
He exhaled. This was going to sound bad. “My parents are on their way up any minute, and I want them to think you’re my girlfriend.”
She blinked at him. “Why?”
He ran his hand through his hair. “Because my mother has been on a matchmaking rampage since I broke up with my girlfriend six months ago. In an effort to put an end to her constant suggestions and inquires, I might have told her I’ve been seeing someone.”
“Ahh. And that’s who I’m pretending to be.”
He nodded.
“But I’d never go out with someone like you.”
He cocked his head. “Oh really? And how do you know that?”
“From a quick glance around your apartment. It looks like it was staged.”
“Yes, I bought it that way in case I ever have to move. It’s ready to sell.”
“But how can you live here if you’re ready to leave at a moment’s notice?”
He opened his mouth, ready to argue, but what was the point? “They won’t be here long. It hardly matters if you’d really date me or not.”
She shrugged. “Fine. If I agree, will you let me stay here the rest of the week until I figure out where to go next?”
His eyebrows shot up. “You’re homeless?”
“Not exactly.” She yawned and stretched. “Well, kind of, I guess.” She sighed. “Yes. For now, I am without a home, so I’ll play along. So, who am I? What do I do?”
He looked up at the ceiling. He was placing his future in the hands of a homeless apartment crasher who thought she was too good to date him? “I have a feeling I’m going to regret this, but here goes. My parents will be up here any minute. You’re Nicole Dawson, you’re a lawyer on track to make partner, and we’ve been dating for three months.”
She shook her head. “No way. I’m not lawyer material at all.”
He sucked in a breath and counted to five. “Yes, you are. I told them my girlfriend was a lawyer.”
Chewing on her bottom lip, she squinted her eyes, then pointed at him. “How about this. I was a lawyer, but I’m thinking about quitting to pursue my love of art. Which is true. I’m an artist.”
“Which is why you’re homeless.”
She nodded. “And, it can lead to the perfect scenario for a breakup. You can’t believe I’d do something so irresponsible. You can’t spend the rest of your life with someone who makes rash decisions like quitting their job to pursue their passion.”
“Or crashing in a stranger’s apartment.”
“Well, that too. But that’s not part of our story, here.” She tucked her legs underneath her, enthusiastically creating their tale. “Okay, now your turn. I know your name is Blake, your apartment is so generically decorated I wasn’t sure someone actually lived here and for some reason you have a pet dog more suitable for an eight-year-old girl than a hot thirty-something guy.”
That caught his attention and he hesitated for a moment. She thought he was hot. He suppressed a smile. Hot—not rich, or a good catch, or a suitable mate. All the things he usually heard from the women who ran in his circle. Hot. His insides hummed. And then he remembered his emasculating pet blinking up at him; and that Goldie wasn’t interested in him. “The dog was a gift to my ex, and she refused to take it because it reminded her of me.” He rolled his eyes. “I don’t have the heart to give her away. And I hired someone specifically to make my apartment look neutral not generic. What else?”
“What do you do for a living?”
“I’m a lawyer close to making partner.”
“Do we get along? Do you love me like mad?” She clasped her hands in front of her in a romantic gesture.
“Excuse me?”
She shrugged. “Am I a casual girlfriend or is this serious? What did you get me for Christmas? Which side of the bed do I sleep on? What have you told your parents about me? Will they be surprised I’m here?”
Right. That was a little strange. “I’ll tell them the dog sitter bailed on me—that part is true—and that you, my lovely Nicole, came to watch my dog. They shouldn’t be here long. We’ll only have to keep up this ruse for half an hour or so.”
“I’ve had shorter relationships.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“Kidding. It just feels like that sometimes.”
He heard his parents come through the front door. “Can you put on a robe or something?” He gestured to her short, silky pink gown.
“I travel light. No room for a robe. Got one you can lend me?”
He pulled his plush white robe out of his closet and handed it to her.
Hopping off the bed, she tugged her arms through the sleeves. “Are we breaking up right now?”
“No, just say hello and I’ll give them the bad news later this week that it’s over.”
“But then she’ll just try to set you up with someone else.”
He shook his head. “I’ll be so devastated I won’t be able to date anyone for a long, long time.”
She nodded in agreement. “It’s true. You would be devastated if I dumped you. Most guys are.”
He laughed. “Okay, Nicole. Time to meet the parents.”
***
Goldie checked her spring of blond curls in the mirror and took a deep breath. This is what you get for crashing at a stranger’s. Maybe it was time to buckle down and get a real job. She shuddered at the thought.
She followed Blake into the kitchen and figured the less she said the better. His mother and father were arguing over whether or not to pick up milk and bread on the way home. They stopped bickering and looked up when she and Blake walked into the kitchen.
“Oh, hello there,” his mother said. She blinked rapidly under shiny black bangs. She was a beautiful woman, with green eyes just like Blake.
“Who’s this, son?” his father asked. He was tall and lean like Blake. It was like Blake had taken their best qualities to become their super hottie son. Super-hottie-without-a-sense-of-humor-or-creative-decorating-taste son.
Blake stood behind Goldie and put his hands on her shoulders. “Mom, Dad, this is Nicole. Turns out my dog sitter had to cancel and contacted Nicole, so she came over to watch Miss Sniggles.”
“I just love that little thing,” Goldie said.
“You do know that was his ex’s dog, right?” Mrs. Behr asked.
Goldie nodded. “But it’s not like I’m wearing her old shoes or engagement ring or something. It’s just a cute little doggie!” On cue, Miss Sniggles came bounding into the room, pawing on Goldie’s leg to be picked up.
“So, Blake
tells us you’re a lawyer,” his father said.
She paused. Now wasn’t the time to announce the news of her sudden career change. “I am. I’m not so sure it’s my calling, though.” She tried her best to sound wistful.
Mrs. Behr looked alarmed. “Why not?”
She shrugged. What are all the reasons she’d hate being a lawyer? “Well, the wardrobe for one. All those stuffy suits?” She made a face. “And people are constantly telling me stupid lawyer jokes. And then dealing with all those murders and thieves?” She threw up hands up in the air as if to say, ‘What can you do?’
Mrs. Behr held a finger in the air, as if requesting to ask a question. “I thought you were a real estate lawyer.”
Blake cleared his throat. “Oh, she is. She helps the murderers and thieves find housing when they leave jail.”
“There are lawyers for that?” his mother asked.
Goldie nodded. “Blake thinks it’s a good career path for me.”
He rubbed her arm. “Well, now that you’ve said hello, why don’t you go back to bed, darling? You must be tired and not up for much more talking,” he said through a tight smile.
“Yes, go back to sleep, Nicole. I’m so sorry we woke you. We can chat in the morning.” His mother turned to Blake. “I’ve decided we’re going to stay here tonight since your father doesn’t want to stop at the grocery store for milk.”
“We can get it in the morning,” his dad grumbled, crossing his arms.
Blake froze. “Stay here? Really? I thought you were anxious to get home? I thought you were just stopping in for a moment?” He probably didn’t realize his grip on her arm had tightened. A lot.
“That was before I knew we’d have a chance to get to know Nicole. We won’t be in the way. Not a bit. We’ll take the guest room down the hall and see you in the morning. Now you two run off. I’m sure you’re eager for some time alone.”
Goldie waggled her eyebrows. “Oh, we are.”
His mother forced a smile. “We’ll see you in the morning. So nice to meet you.”
“You, too.” Goldie walked out of the kitchen back to Blake’s bedroom, where he closed the door behind him.